


Who am I to tell fate?

by audrarose



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:50:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audrarose/pseuds/audrarose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel's taking Grace to Singapore for 3 months. Danny is a mess. Steve wants to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who am I to tell fate?

**Author's Note:**

> I was tagged in [](http://shoot-the-curl.livejournal.com/profile)[**shoot_the_curl**](http://shoot-the-curl.livejournal.com/) with the prompt: "Write your name in the stars /I am trying to heal your heart" (Lyrics from "Aurora" by Lapush).

The slam of the shutter against the side of the house wakes Danny; loud and sharp and startling, mostly because his new apartment doesn’t have shutters.

So. Steve’s place, then. Steve’s bed.

He dimly remembers drinking at the Sandpiper and Steve pouring him out of his truck afterward. He quite _vividly_ remembers getting sick in Steve’s bathroom, even though, wow -- he is way too old for this crap -- and then using a toothbrush, possibly Katherine’s; a fact that he will process later.

Then... falling asleep in the fading afternoon light while Steve watched from the doorway, his expression closed down into something Danny will also process later.

Now the room is dark, with wind screaming in through the open window, and Steve is in the doorway again. He hesitates there, then moves inside to pull the casement closed. The roar retreats to a distant howl.

Danny reaches for the lamp beside the bed, twists the switch.

Nothing.

“Power’s out,” he says, through the sand in his throat. He drinks deeply from the water bottle left helpfully next to the lamp and ignores the bottle of Advil standing next to it. For the moment, his hangover’s still waiting in the wings, ready to make a grand entrance later, no doubt.

“Power always goes out in a storm,” Steve answers, doing something over by the book case that Danny can’t see.

“Of course it does. I love this island. Have I told you that?”

“Many times.” Flick of a lighter as Steve tilts a jar candle toward his hand, a practiced move like he’s made this motion many times, too. Warm light flares along the lines of Steve’s arm, hugging the hollows and the curves, the dark ink across his bicep. Danny closes his eyes.

“It’s only three months, Danno.” Steve’s voice is soft.

“It’s Singapore.”

“Three hours by plane.”

“Which I can afford to do maybe once?” Danny hates the self-pity in his voice, but there’s nothing he can do about it. “And what if Super-Stan transfers permanently; what then? If it isn’t just three months... I’m supposed to chase my kid across the globe and do what exactly? Somehow I don’t think the Singapore PD is hiring.”

“Then... something. I don’t know. A lawyer.” Steve shrugs a little helplessly. “Can Rachel take Grace that far away from you, anyway? What does the custody agreement say?” Steve makes a move like he’s going to go find the paperwork and start reviewing it immediately.

“I’m not going back to court.”

“Hey, I know some lawyers. A lawyer, anyway. I could call --”

“No more court. No more lawyers. I won’t do that to Grace; plus my bank account and my _soul_ cannot take that fucking circus again. No.”

“Then... then, you could...” Steve trails off, lets the hopeless fucking mess of it just hang there for a second.

“Yeah,” Danny says, low and bitter. “There aren’t a lot of options to end that sentence.”

Steve crosses his arms, looking restless and unhappy. The candle on the shelf sends warm light over his jaw, leaves shadows in that perfect hollow beneath his cheekbone and it isn’t fair, not in the same universe as fair. Rachel’s beauty made Danny ache, but Steve’s beauty makes him _burn_ ; hollows him out, like maybe there’s nothing left inside but ashes.

“I just don’t know how to help you,” Steve says, finally.

Danny can hardly hear him, his voice is so low; can’t see his eyes, because Steve’s looking at the floor like it’s breaking his heart. All of a sudden Danny’s unbearably tired of being broken all by himself.

“Steve.” Too much in that word. He better be careful.

Steve looks up, because he heard Danny's intent, too. “Danny?” Wary. Hopeful, too.

Danny sits up. "Just come here." He swallows. "Please."

He’s begging. It doesn’t matter. As long as Steve comes closer and lets Danny pull him down, lets Danny touch him, warm skin against cool sheets... well, God help him, nothing else matters.

It’s a shock how perfect Steve feels against him, lean and smooth every place Danny touches; one continuous shock of pleasure that has Danny pulling frantically at Steve’s clothes, a million miles from gentle. And the miracle is that Steve _lets_ him; lets Danny drag his shirt off so swiftly it leaves his hair sticking up and the red scrape of a button across his cheek. He doesn’t say anything when Danny tears at the button of his cargoes, either, wrenching at it until the thread just snaps. Danny doesn’t even lower the zipper before he’s shoving everything down Steve’s hips; down his legs; just off, off, off.

“You need this?” Steve asks, urgent between kisses, in the moments Danny lets him have his mouth back. Thank God Steve can read whatever he needs to see in Danny’s face, in the faint candle light that paints Steve’s body like it’s in love.

“Yeah. Need _you_ ,” Danny manages. Always. Yes. Under his hands and against his lips, coming apart in Danny’s arms. Always.

**

 

“Impulsive,” Steve says, breathing hard.

He’s sprawled out beneath Danny with Danny’s face buried hard in his neck, feeling every hectic beat of his pulse. Danny licks him there, salt and heat. Addictive.

“You know me. I don’t like to dwell.”

“Uh huh.” Smiling.

Danny can feel the motion in the muscles of Steve’s thoat. He smiles, too.

“So I figured I could either lay here and whine and watch the candlelight do artistic things to your cheekbones, or I could finally take a chance and use my tongue to do artistic things to your --”

“-- finally?” Steve’s body goes still, the fingers playing with Danny’s hair motionless and tight.

Danny pushes his head against Steve’s hand. “Do that some more. And yeah. A year’s worth of finally. At least.” He lifts his head, tries to read something in the blankness of Steve’s expression. “You didn’t know? I’m supposed to believe that?”

“No. Maybe. I just thought you were, you know... upset.”

“And so this was what -- a team building exercise? Seriously?”

“Not for me,” Steve says, too fast to be lying. “But if it was for you... I get it. I just wanted you to know it’s okay, if that’s what you need.”

Danny drops his head to Steve’s chest and lets that one roll over him for a whole freaking minute before he starts to laugh. “Oh, Stephen. What am I going to do.”

“It’s not that funny --”

“You know what? I am not even going to address your demented theories on management. But I will tell you that I don’t hate this island. Not anymore. I was lying. And do you know why?” He raises his head to look at Steve, at his stupid, beautiful face. “Two reasons. My daughter. And you.”

Steve’s gaze skates away in the candle light, embarrassed. Pleased. “Well, and your awesome job...”

“You. And with Grace in Singapore, you get that title to yourself.” Only a little shaky. Danny is proud.

Steve’s gaze is back on him, now, steady and sure. “Just for three months, Danno. And to make sure, I’m telling you, if it comes to that -- I know a lawyer. A terrifying, navy lawyer-shark who owes me a favor.”

“Is that what navy lawyers are called? Sharks, like you guys are SEALS? Is that a thing?” Danny asks.

“Three months.”

Danny can’t help it. He’s smiling. “During which you will distract me with getting shot at and sex, I assume.”

"Well, you know. I don't want you to dwell."

The wind batters the windows with rain, the ocean beyond sounds like it's mad as hell. Danny can't help but feel a little hopeful. "Deal. Let's start now."


End file.
